Jimmy’s face lit up.
* * *
“Well, I think we’ve taken up enough of your time,” Davies said to the Evanses, as Bethan bent down to give Robbie a pat. “Shall we give you a lift over to Mrs. Lloyd’s and then we’ll all be able to get on with our dinners.”
“Oh, that’s very kind of you,” said the rector. “I don’t like taking the car out in winter, so if you’d be kind enough to drive us, that would be wonderful.” He exchanged glances with his wife. “Then the three of us can easily walk home. I’ll just ring Florence to let them know we’re on our way.”
“I don’t think I’ve ever been in a police car before,” Bronwyn remarked when she and the rector, with Robbie between them, were arranged in the backseat of the police car.
“I’m sure you’d remember if you had.” Bethan smiled as she put the car in gear and drove off. The rector smiled and reached for his wife’s hand.
Bronwyn laughed good-naturedly “Well, in any event, I know Robbie’s never been in one.”
“First time for everything, my dear,” said the rector. “Now, I wonder if we should be hoping that no one we know will see us driving by, or just for the fun of it, should we hope that someone we do know does see us?”
“And if we do see someone we know,” replied Bronwyn, “do we stare straight ahead and look very worried or should we smile and wave?”
* * *
As they pulled up in front of Mrs. Lloyd’s home on Rosemary Lane, Bethan spoke softly to Davies. He nodded, then turned to his passengers in the back.
“We’re just going to pop in for a quick word with Mrs. Lloyd and Florence. They might have noticed something in the church this morning.”
* * *
“No, I didn’t see anyone put anything in the collection plate, except what you’d expect, regular collection envelopes and money,” said Mrs. Lloyd. “Did you see anything untoward, Florence?”
Florence slung a tea towel over her shoulder and then held a hand up to her cheek. “Let me think.”
The rector took off his coat and folded it over his arm as Bronwyn bent down and unclipped Robbie’s leash.
“Would it be all right, Mrs. Lloyd, if he just had a little wander about to get his bearings?”
“Yes, of course. Florence has put down a bowl of water for him in the kitchen.”
“Sorry to be taking so long,” said Florence, glancing at Bethan. “I was just going over everything in my mind, like. I remember the sidesmen passing the collection plate, but there was nothing amiss when we were in our seats. On the way out, however, I took one last look at the altar decorations and noticed an envelope about this big”-she made a small square with her hands-“sitting on top of one of the collection plates. “Brown, it was. It wasn’t a regular collection envelope, and I thought maybe someone had donated something special, it being Christmas and all. But I didn’t think any more about it.”
Bethan leaned forward slightly.
“Did you see who put it there?” she asked. “Think carefully now. You’ve been doing really well with this.”
Florence’s eyes shifted to the rector.
“It was just after the rector had left to go to the rear of the church to say good-bye to folks and some people had left their seats. There was a cluster of folk there, and I don’t know many of them. The only person I saw that I recognized was Bowen, the bank manager.”
She tipped her head to one side.
“And now that I think of it, that’s a bit odd because he was sitting behind us, wasn’t he, Evelyn?” Mrs. Lloyd nodded. “Yes, he was. We said good morning to him and his wife as we walked past them on the way in.
“So it does seem strange, now that I think of it,” continued Florence, “that instead of making his way to the back of the church when the service was over, that he had gone to the front.”
“Can you remember anyone else who was at the front of the church at that time?” asked Davies.
“Well, his wife was with him, I think, but she was talking to someone. The woman from the charity shop, I think. Having a good old natter, they were.”
Davies shot Bethan a quick glance and thanked Florence. “You’ve been very helpful. We won’t keep you away from your dinner any longer, and we do apologize for holding you up.”
Something seemed to occur to Florence, and she leaned forward as if she was about to say something important. “Have you had your dinner yet, Inspector?” she asked.
Bethan and Davies shrugged.
“Just wait there a moment, Inspector,” said Florence as she hurried into the kitchen.
She emerged a few minutes later and handed them a hefty packet wrapped in aluminum foil.
“From the look of things, it might be a while before you get to your dinner and there’s nothing open today, so here’s a couple of turkey sandwiches to take along with you.” As a wide grin spread across Bethan’s face, Florence brushed away her thanks. “I put a little cranberry sauce and stuffing in them. Not as good as the real thing, I know, but something to be going on with.” She pulled two bottles of water from her apron pockets and solemnly handed them to Davies. “I expect you’ll be wanting these, too.”
“Well, thank you so much,” Davies said. “And a very happy Christmas to all of you.”
Twenty-six
Davies checked his watch as the car pulled up in front of the Bowens’ two-storey home.
“The whole afternoon is disappearing,” he grumbled. “I really didn’t want to spend Christmas Day like this. Let’s just hear what Bowen has to say, and then maybe we can salvage what’s left of the day.”
“There won’t be much of it,” said Bethan. “It’ll be dark in an hour or so. But I’m starving. It was so good of Florence to think of sending those sandwiches with us. Should we take a few moments to eat them before we go in?”
“Yes, I think we should.”
* * *
Huw Bowen answered the door, still wearing the shirt and tie he’d worn to church, but his suit jacket had been replaced by a frayed green cardigan with leather patches on the elbows.
“Oh, it’s you,” he said when he saw who it was. “You’d better come in, then.” He stood aside to let them enter and then shuffled along behind them in worn slippers down a short hallway into an overheated, overdecorated sitting room whose predominant colour was beige. No Christmas decorations had been put up, and there was no Christmas tree. A few cards had been propped up on the mantelpiece, but one had fallen over and no one had bothered to set it upright. A small lamp in the corner of the room was losing its battle to dispel the gloom.
“This is my wife, Glynnis,” he said, with a defeated wave in his wife’s direction. “I don’t know if you’ve met before.” The two police officers nodded at her, then turned to Bowen.
“We’re sorry to bother you on Christmas Day,” Bethan began, “but we want to talk to you about a packet that was left in a collection plate at the church this morning. Did you happen to see who put it there?”
“Why do you ask?” Bowen replied.
“We’re investigating a series of thefts that may be connected to a murder.”
Bowen sighed and rubbed his hand across his chin.
“I’ve been expecting you,” he said, “only not today, of course. I thought you might have the decency to at least let us have Christmas Day.”
Seeing Bethan’s look of confusion, he turned to Davies.
“You’ve really come about that Harry Saunders fellow, haven’t you?”
“Why do you say that?” Davies replied.
“Because I killed him. I’ve been expecting you.”
The atmosphere thickened as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. Glynnis Bowen gave her husband a hard, hateful look and covered her face with her hands. The only sound was a faint hiss coming from the radiator under the window.
* * *
“Here you go, Jimmy,” said Penny as she helped him on with his coat. “They’ve finished lunch at Mrs. Lloyd’s so we
’ll run you over now.” Penny exchanged a few brief words with Gwennie, and then she and Victoria guided Jimmy gently down the path and into Victoria’s car. They drove slowly through the almost deserted streets, quiet and peaceful in the lull of a Christmas Day afternoon.
“Everyone’ll be sleeping off all that turkey,” Jimmy observed.
“Are you tired?” Penny asked him. “You could have had a little lie down, and then we could have taken you over for supper, perhaps.”
“How do you know I won’t be having a little lie down when I get there?” asked Jimmy with a cheeky grin.
“Aren’t you a bit old for that kind of carrying on?” Victoria laughed.
“You’re never too old,” said Jimmy. “At least I hope not.”
* * *
“Hello, Jimmy, and do come in,” said Mrs. Lloyd graciously, with a sweeping gesture in the direction of her sitting room. “Now I know you’ve just had a wonderful lunch, but I wondered if we might offer you a warm mince pie and a glass of sherry. I have dry and sweet.”
“Nothing for me, thanks,” said Jimmy. “I couldn’t eat another thing.” Leaning heavily on two canes, he walked slowly but steadily into the sitting room, followed by a solicitous Mrs. Lloyd.
“Come in, you two,” said Mrs. Lloyd to Penny and Victoria. “We’ve given Florence the afternoon off after all her hard work this morning. She’s in here with the Evanses.” Everyone laughed as a small, sharp bark emanated from beside Bronwyn’s chair.
“Oh, sorry, Robbie. Yes, Robbie’s here, too.”
Penny and Victoria smiled at the room, and Penny reached down to give Robbie a pat.
“We can only stay a few minutes,” Victoria said. “I’ve got to drive Penny back to hers and then get over to my cousin’s and deliver the Christmas presents to the children. They’ve already texted me twice, asking when I’m coming. They’re pretending they can’t wait to see me, but we all know what they’re really after.”
A light silence fell over the group as they watched Mrs. Lloyd settle herself into a corner of the sofa.
“We had a lovely meal,” said Bronwyn to no one in particular. “Florence did herself proud. Everything was just delicious.”
“Indeed it was,” echoed the rector.
Seated in a wing chair in front of the fireplace, Florence acknowledged their thanks.
Penny glanced at her, and then at the rather large book on the table beside her elbow.
She picked it up and turned it over.
“Are you reading this, Florence?”
“Yes, I am and quite enjoying it, too. He does a good job, that author does, of capturing the essence of Liverpool the way it used to be.”
Jimmy leaned over to get a closer look.
“John Lennon. The Life.”
“Yes, there’s a lot about Liverpool back in the old days, the way I remember it,” Florence said. “I like reading about the old days. All those people and places. Beautiful old buildings, some of them. Long gone.”
“Where did you get this book, may I ask?” said Penny. “It’s not a library book or I might take it out of the library myself.”
“Oh, it was given to me as a little gift,” said Florence. “It’s used; it came from the charity shop, but I don’t mind that. I’m glad to have it. It must have cost quite a bit when it was new, by the weight of it.”
Penny nodded. Careful, now, she thought. Take it easy.
“Who gave it to you, Florence?” she blurted out.
Florence tipped her head to one side.
“Why, Glynnis Bowen. She’s very generous. She’s given me quite a few nice things, hasn’t she, Evelyn?”
Mrs. Lloyd nodded. “Well, nice if you like that sort of thing. Secondhand.”
Penny caught Victoria’s eye and stood up.
“Well, sorry to dash, but we have to be on our way. Victoria’s very anxious to get over to her cousin’s. Mustn’t keep the kids waiting any longer. Come on, Victoria, let’s be having you.”
After hurried good-byes and leaving a somewhat startled Mrs. Lloyd standing in her doorway waving them off, Penny settled into the passenger seat and scrabbled about in her handbag for her mobile phone.
“What on earth was that all about?” demanded Victoria. “We didn’t even say a proper good-bye to Thomas and Bronwyn.”
“No, and I’m sorry about that,” said Penny, “but we had to get out of there. Don’t you see?”
“See what?”
“Glynnis Bowen. She gave the John Lennon book to Florence. That book was on the list that Bethan gave me of things that had been stolen from the charity shop. It was just so easy to remember a John Lennon book because everybody knows who he was.”
She reached into her pockets. “Oh, where the hell is it?”
“What? Where’s what?”
“My phone. I can’t find my phone. Where’s yours?”
“In my bag on the backseat.”
Penny twisted around and tried to reach it. “Argh. I can’t get it.”
“Well, we’re almost back at yours, you can ring when we get there. Who are you so keen to ring by the way, as if I didn’t know.”
“Gareth. I have to ring him and tell him about Glynnis.”
“Tell him what?”
“That she killed Saunders and poor Brian Kenley.”
“How do you work that out?”
“Well, I don’t know why she killed Saunders, but she killed Brian because she was afraid that the photographs he took at Conwy Castle the day Harry Saunders was killed could incriminate her.”
“And you know all this because…” said Victoria as she turned into the narrow lane that led to Penny’s cottage.
“Because she stole the letter opener from Mrs. Lloyd. She must have taken it the day of Mrs. Lloyd’s open house and then forgotten about it. And there it still was at the bottom of her bag on the day we went to Conwy Castle. And she stole the daffodil plate from the charity shop and gave it to Brian Kenley, just like she gave the book to Florence. And that’s what I couldn’t work out that day I went to see him, just before he was killed.”
“All this is so hard to follow. You couldn’t work out what?”
“I couldn’t work out why he didn’t seem bothered that the plate got broken. But now I see the reason he didn’t care was he hadn’t had it very long and it was just an old secondhand plate that Glynnis had given him. He couldn’t have cared less about it getting broken, but I think he was upset because it happened when Glynnis was there. And then when I went over to see him, full of apologies about breaking his plate, he really had no idea what I was going on about.”
“I’m not so sure I do, either,” said Victoria, pulling up in front of the little path that led to Penny’s front door. “Anyway, here we are. Do you mind if I don’t come in? I do need to get over to see the children and I expect Gareth and Bethan will be back soon.”
“No, that’s fine,” said Penny. “Gwennie and I’ll do the tidying up, and you and I can catch up later or tomorrow. Right. Got to find my phone.”
“It’s only me, Gwennie,” Penny called out as she pushed open the front door, to be greeted by a tail-wagging Trixxi. “Just got to make a phone call, and then I’ll come through to help you.”
She picked up her phone from the small desk near the window and pressed the key to ring Davies. Damn! It went to voice mail. “Hi,” she said, “it’s me. Call me the minute you get this. It’s important.” She paused a moment and then, just before pressing the key to end the call, added, “Really important.”
She went through to the kitchen to find Gwennie seated at the small table eating a turkey sandwich. The dishwasher was chugging away, and the leftover food had been wrapped up and put in the refrigerator. A few large pots soaked in the sink.
“Hi, Gwennie.”
“Hello, Miss Penny. You’re back then. I wondered if I might have a word with you.”
“Of course. May I join you?” Penny pulled out a chair and sat down.
“I’
ve been thinking about what you were saying at lunch about the woman’s body that was found in the ductwork in the spa and how she was related to the man who got himself murdered at Conwy Castle.”
Penny nodded.
“Well, I remember back when I was a girl and my mother worked at the Hall and she mentioned once that the girl who worked in the kennels and stables had gone missing. And she had a boy, about six or seven, I think he was, a bit younger than me. I’m not sure if the dates are right, but it might be worth looking into. I called my sister and she remembers Ma talking about it. Caused a lot of anxiety at the Hall when she went missing. Mr. and Mrs. Gruffydd did what they could to try to find her. The girl’s sister looked after the young lad, and eventually they moved away.”
Gwennie took a sip of water. “Been a long time since I thought about that, but it might be worth mentioning to your police fellow and he can look into it.”
“What was her name, Gwennie? Can you remember?”
“Juliette. I always thought that was such a pretty name. Juliette Sanderson, she was.”
“I’ll definitely tell Gareth, Gwennie. Thanks very much for this. It would be wonderful if we could give her name back to her after all these years.”
She got up from the table. “I’d better just go and try to ring him again.”
“And I’ll make a start on those pots,” said Gwennie, as the dishwasher changed gears, paused for a moment, then whirred into the final rinse cycle.
Penny turned back to Gwennie.
“I wanted to thank you for all you’ve done today, Gwennie. And it was wonderful of you to arrive early to make a start on things.”
“I didn’t arrive particularly early,” said Gwennie as she took a step toward the sink. “I said I’d be here at eight and I was here at eight.”
Penny tipped her head.
“But I heard you moving about down here around seven thirty.”
A Killer's Christmas in Wales Page 21